


To Feel Loved

by orphan_account



Series: In Our Dreams [1]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst and Feels, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22088005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "He finds himself in a bed. A bed so soft it feels like a cloud, so plush that it feels as if he is sinking. There is a soft snoring sound coming from presence behind him. Something which feels like an arm on top of him, pulling him into the larger body from which the snores are coming from."
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Series: In Our Dreams [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671823
Comments: 16
Kudos: 97





	To Feel Loved

Agent Alexsandr Kallus is tired. He has been up for multiple cycles chasing the rebels from planet to planet. Sleep is something that eludes him. Falling asleep now would mean the possibility that he may miss something- anything- of importance. He can’t sleep now, not when he is so close to finding them again. Unfortunately, his humanness is also his downfall. The hours and hours that have gone on have caused him to eventually be so tired that he thinks that he will fall down onto his knees if he has to remain standing for another minute, let alone another few hours. 

Kallus supposes he is saved by Lieutenant Lyste who dismisses him for a few hours. While the lieutenant ranks lower than himself, he also speaks truthfully. He has a valid argument anyway. Because it was true, the agent had been exhausting himself as he kept a vigilant eye on any new rebel activity. Lacking the desire to argue, and perhaps the energy and the actual arguments themselves, Kallus is unexpectedly grateful. With a newfound purpose, he exits the command center and drags his feet to his room. 

His room is empty. it lacks everything that could possibly show that it has and is being lived in. In Kallus' opinion, it just makes him appear to be a better agent than that of what he actually is. It shows his supposed dedication to the Empire as he doesn't allow himself any type of distraction, no matter how big or small. They told him that the room was his and that he could do what he liked with it. And yet, the room remained clean and undecorated. Simply a placeholder for someone of more importance than that of the troopers. The room would never truly be his so he found himself never personalizing the room to fit his tastes. He didn’t ever feel compelled to waste his time in something that could easily be taken away or blown up.

The one thing that could be considered as decoration- more for the fact that it was not anything of Imperial issue- was the meteorite he had obtained, among other things, on the ice moon in Geonosis’ orbit. Well, more like it was the Lasat captain who had found it and gave it to him.

The meteorite hadn’t saved him as much as his kindness toward someone like him, an Imperial of all things. The meteorite may have been warm and provided light, but the captain had done both things without knowing it. Possibly even more than Kallus knew.

He smiles faintly at the thought of the Lasat who saved him. Who didn’t leave him alone in a cold, dark cave with a broken leg. There is something in his chest that pangs with a feeling that is unknown to him. While unfamiliar, it still hurts. 

Sighing, the agent sits on his bed, hard and unyielding against the weight of his body. As he looks at the data pad settled on the small desk beside his bed, it emits a bright, white light into the dark room that assaults his eyes momentarily. There are no new messages. Nothing other than the drafts of his reports of the rebel’s activities. His eyelids eventually start to droop shut and he put the data pad back and lays down. 

It takes what feels like a long time for Kallus to find sleep. Despite his fatigue, his mind still wanders through many disjointed thoughts. But slowly, so very slowly, his breathing evens out as he finds rest. 

\--

He finds himself in a bed. A bed so soft it feels like a cloud, so plush that it feels as if he is sinking. There is a soft snoring sound coming from presence behind him. Something which feels like an arm on top of him, pulling him into the larger body from which the snores are coming from. He’s being cocooned in a warmth that he hasn’t felt in days due to the cold, unforgiving darkness of space. The presence behind him is warm and soft. Through a sleepy analysis, Kallus determines that the softness is due to the fur of the body next to him.

Cracking his eyes open slightly, he first sees the pleasant light of the early morning sun casting a welcoming warm light into a sparsely decorated, but homey feeling room. The sun’s light cast a beam of light directly overhead and onto the white stucco wall behind him. Despite the usual harshness of most sunlight, this is a gentle light, caressing everything in a soft warmth. 

There is a tangle of white sheets draped over him, soft and smooth and cool and warm. His earlier analysis is correct when he sees a bigger body aside his own, underneath the sheets. And then he sees an arm, covered in soft purple fur with stripes on it. 

The arm is muscular and defined with the capability to likely crush Kallus’ head easily, but is surprisingly gentle as it pulls him closer into the equally muscular frame. And Kallus lets it happen, relishing in the warm embrace. However, he must have stirred enough to somewhat wake the individual behind him as the body behind him shifts then whispers in a growly, gentle, sleep-ridden voice,

“Alex…” a yawn. “Go back to sleep…’s early.”

Kallus startles a little at the use of his name. It’s his name. Something that was given to him and will never be anyone else’s. However, he hasn’t heard his name, his desired nick-name, since before he left for the Imperial academy all those years ago. Even longer since he heard it said in such a loving tone. 

Happiness balloons inside his chest and a feeling like content washes over him as he nessels into the body behind his own. He feels safe. And most of all, he feels loved. And with the slightest and most genuine smile upon his lips, he allows himself to be pulled back into the peacefulness of sleep. 

\--

Kallus wakes with the ghost of a smile on his lips, basking in the glow of his happiness. Something in him bubbles with a childlike excitement. That is, until he opens his eyes.

Gone is the soft sunlight drifting through a window. As are the mess of sheets and the room. Gone is the warmth of a presence behind him, no one there cuddling into his shoulder. There is no Lasat holding him close, like something to be treasured. There is nothing but his empty, dark room that feels much more lonely than it ever had before. 

It is with a terrible, terrifying, horrible agony in which Kallus realizes that nothing was real. That it was all just a dream. 

He sits up, draws his knees up to his chest, and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. He wants to cry. And he does. A choked sob escaping his mouth as the gravity of what just occurred settles in. 

Kallus’ shoulders shake with his cries. The dream, it had felt so real. He had felt things that he couldn’t possibly remember the last time he felt. He had thought he was so close to having what he actually wanted. The things that he wanted dearly. But it was only a dream. A dream that had felt so real. 

He had thought that his efforts in this war were over. That he had done his service and finally found the peace he so desired. The love that he craved. The love he craved from the person he wanted most. That the galaxy had allowed him to be lucky for once.

But the galaxy was not nearly as kind. Instead, it tortured him with such a dream. Reminding him of the things he could never have and the person he wanted so desperately to love him, hated him. 

And so, he allows himself to cry. Alone. He’ll always be this way. 

Anything better could only be something in his imagination. A dream. A vision that could never come true. Always alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! [Tumblr](https://bladesnflannel.tumblr.com)  
> -J


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